Samhain Scare
by E Salvatore
Summary: When a mysterious high priestess opens a portal and causes the disappearances and eventual deaths of three young Wiccans,the team and mysterious consultant Peter Bishop are called in.Sometimes,desperation is strong enough to defy even magic and science.
1. Chapter 1

**SAMHAIN SCARE**

**Summary : When a mysterious high priestess opens a portal and causes the disappearances and eventual deaths of three young Wiccans, the team and new, mysterious consultant Peter Bishop are called in. Sometimes, desperation is strong enough to defy even magic and science. Three-part Halloween case-fic. **

**Disclaimer : Hmm... maybe for my birthday, you guys could come together and buy out JJ Abrams and the guys? Nah, I didn't think so, either.**

* * *

><p><strong>Samhain Scare<strong>

**One : All Hallows' Eve**

* * *

><p>"Dunham."<p>

"We have a case. Round up the team and Peter Bishop. The address will be sent to you shortly." Her superior has a way of barking orders in a blunt manner which leaves no room for dispute, but Olivia tries anyway.

"Peter Bishop?" She questions, uncertain. The mysterious stranger had shown up a month ago, a figment of her and Walter's combined imagination suddenly real. Various tests have proven his claim to be Walter's long-dead son accurate, but the fact remains that he is, for all intents and purposes, a non-existent stranger who knows way too much classified and personal information… and elicits strange responses from her body, along with feelings that leave more to be desired and worry her simultaneously.

"Bishop has been briefed and is waiting. If Dr. Bishop refuses to leave the lab, then this man is our best shot at getting a proper preliminary examination. He also appears to have substantial knowledge and experience, and until cleared, is best kept under surveillance as an asset to the team. Is that clear, Dunham?"

Sometimes Olivia wonders if Broyles is capable of asking a real question, not a pathetic attempt at one that comes out as a clear order.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Bishop is waiting for you and Agent Farnsworth will meet you at the scene."

Just as she hangs up, the address of their scene appears on her screen as promised. She huffs as she memorizes the address; it will be a ninety-minute drive, at the very least, and she will be spending it in a confined space with a stranger who has a way of making her uncomfortably aware of his presence at all times.

Oh joy.

* * *

><p>"We have a case."<p>

"I could tell," His easy smirk does nothing to placate her and as he motions easily for her to come in while he gets ready to leave, she notices the small flicker of pain in his eyes. It irritates her - how well she can read this man. She knows her blunt manner hurts; there has to have been a reason that she had been the first he'd asked for in the hospital, and not his reluctant father. And apparently, the reason is an amazing, unbelievable romance that transcends timelines and universes. She knows better than to buy into it, but sometimes these little reactions from him manage to persuade her, even for a single second, into wondering if he is telling the truth, after all.

She remains outside of his door, the tiny hotel corridor uncomfortably warm. It takes him all of two minutes to gather his belongings and lock the door behind him, and another two for them to settle in for the long drive.

"So Walter never comes out?"

He's starting conversation, again, knowing that she's too polite and curious to ignore him; she hates him for knowing that.

"Never. The one time he left the lab was when we went to New York, when…" She falters suddenly, a whole day's worth of repressed memories suddenly leading an attack against her protective mind.

"When I burst into existence like part of an ancient mythology, fully formed." He has a good sense of humor, and a charming smile and oh God, why can't she control these thoughts? She is a grown woman, for crying out loud, and though it has been, admittedly, a while since she had catered to certain needs, the way this man makes her feel is downright ridiculous; it's as if her body recognizes him on some primal, basic level that her brain doesn't function on.

She's staring and he knows it. He shifts slightly, focusing on her and only her, and she knows he's going to say something; she hates that she knows these little things – hates it so much because it is proof of a life stolen from her.

"Eyes on the road, sweetheart." He says with a soft, genuine smile, saving them both from a potentially awkward situation. She turns to face the road, but only because she can feel a blush working its way into her abnormally pale cheeks and he really doesn't need to know that he gets her flustered.

"Why do you call me that?"

She's looking for trouble, unable to find contentment in the heavy, charged silence they share. She's asking questions she shouldn't be asking, because it hurts so much when he gives her a glimpse into that other life, the one where she doesn't have a hole in her; has never had one.

"Because I called you that when we first met, and you threatened me."

It is puzzling but entirely him to antagonize her, and so she accepts it with a curt nod, focusing on the road and the inner workings of her mind, hoping to coax some trace of this reality he dreams of. She shoots him a quick look and it is enough for her to catalogue the playful smirk tugging at his lips and the glint in his eyes.

"And besides, you like it when I call you that when we make love."

Stunned, Olivia can only offer a quick thanks to the powers-that-be for this empty stretch of road where she can't crash into any other car as she hits the brakes a little too hard.

Peter Bishop is a dangerous, dangerous man.

* * *

><p>Peter isn't playing fair, but then again, fair's overrated.<p>

And it's a matter of love, so he figures he has a free pass, anyway. All's fair in love and war, right? He needs to get the love of his life back and end a war between universes; his moral compass should probably take off for a vacation right now, because Peter knows he will do almost anything to get his life – and his Olivia – back.

And if that means playing dirty, so be it. Olivia is attracted to him, for the simple reason that her body remembers his. And if it's his one advantage, then he's going to work it.

But more than getting into her pants, he wants her to remember him; wants her to remember that this is the man she crossed universes for, the man she loves. He wants her to love him because he loves her and he wants her, in more ways than should be humanely possible. He wants, so badly, for her to look at him in that special way she reserved for him, with warm, trusting eyes and not these cold, lifeless ones he's been subjected to ever since his return.

She clams up after his, admittedly, inappropriate comment and they spend the next hour in silence; a silence filled with longing and curious looks and the ghosts of a past life.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Astrid."<p>

She flashes him a short smile before returning to her previous task – reporting back to Walter. The young agent has been the friendliest member of the team to him, probably because he isn't claiming to be her long-dead son or the forgotten love of her existence. He's just her friend; a friend she doesn't remember, but a good friend.

"So, what do we have?" He turns to Olivia, who's just walked away from a local detective. He misses how they would trade case details on the drive over, but all she does these days is give him the most basic details and leave him to his work.

"Last night, these nine ladies-" She points out a group of young women hovering at the edges of the scene, "- and three more, plus a stranger we haven't been able to identify, gathered in this clearing to celebrate Samhain."

"So they're Wiccans?" Peter surmises.

"Yeah. 12 of them and some lady they refer to as the High Priestess. Seems she just got into town, convinced them to let her join and took the lead last night, bringing them here. Precisely three minutes before midnight, this lady walks up, pulls three of the ladies and then they disappear."

"Dissapear?" Olivia's blunt manner of speech isn't lost on him; she can't make sense of this and she doesn't like it.

"Just like that. They haven't been seen since then, and after an hour, Clarissa Hubble-" She points out a redhead who looks to be in her late teens, "- called it in. Police department didn't take her seriously until reports of a dry thunder storm came in and then we were notified."

"Any theories yet?" Broyles comes up behind them, effectively preventing the sarcastic remark Peter would have made regarding the fact that when weird things happen, the Freak Division is called in. Astrid joins them after a quick circle of the area with multiple devices at her disposal.

"Walter thinks that something weird must've happened, because we've got spiked levels of energy and other weird readings, but until something else comes up, or these women show up again, I don't think we have anything else to go on."

"Spiked levels of energy?" Olivia echoes uncertainly. "Does he think that-"

"This is a possible soft spot?" Astrid finishes her sentence. "Yeah; he's not happy about it, too."

"Pack it up," Broyles orders, quickly taking charge. "Agents and trained scientists will guard the scene until further evidence shows up. For now, head back to the lab and see what Dr. Bishop can come up with."

Astrid nods a silent agreement and begins to clean up as Broyles leaves them to their own devices. "I just wish we had more to go on," She sighs, clearly dissatisfied. "I actually got caught in traffic on the way here." She complains to Olivia, who shrugs.

She's about to formulate a reply when a ripping sound echoes throughout the space, commanding everyone's attention.

In the stunned silence, Peter is the first to recover and use his dry humor.

"Be careful what you wish for, Astrid."

In the middle of the previously empty clearing, three bodies with a startling number of limbs fused to the oddest spots have appeared in a smoking pile.

"Get Broyles," Olivia comments in a low voice and one of the lingering techs quickly chases after their superior. Astrid's headpiece comes to life as she updates Walter. Peter and Olivia stand guard over the remains, the ramifications of this recent development running through their minds.

"Familiar?" Peter questions in a tone that suggests it is, to him.

"Yes," Olivia nods grimly. "They-"

"-were pulled into the other universe."

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Halloween!<strong>

**Fresh off the high **_**21 Dreams **_**gave me and here it is - my very first case-fic. And yes, of course it had to be a three-part Fringe Halloween fic, because that's just how my mind works. I'm hoping to achieve an even balance between the case and personal relationships, because there's just so much to write about when it comes to Peter's return – can you say Peter/Olivia angst? How do you guys think I'm doing so far?**

**Feedback is always appreciated, and if reviews aren't your thing, there's always e-mail, PM, my homepage and Twitter. Reviews make for great birthday presents, did you know? (Yes, I am not above using my birthday to get reviews. I am such a whore.)**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Samhain Scare**

**Two : All Saints' Day**

* * *

><p>A fair distance away, hidden by the trees, a woman gasps, horrified by the consequences of her actions.<p>

But it's too late now; they're dead.

* * *

><p>"You're telling me that at 11.57 last night, four seemingly normal women crossed over and now three of them are dead, their bodies half their own and half their alternates'." Broyles sounds shocked; just a bit, but it's a lot for him. Olivia nods as Peter voices out his agreement.<p>

"This wouldn't be the first time," He shrugs. He wants desperately to bring up the first case of unexplained crossing over; the first time he almost kissed Olivia. But he doesn't, because he can't; not now, when lives are at stake and everyone needs to be at their best – not distracted by small details wiped out by his non-existence.

Broyles shoots him a look but says nothing; it shouldn't come as a surprise, his in-depth knowledge of past Fringe events. After all, that knowledge alone is what led him to grant Peter a consultant gig, keeping him close to the team.

Their superior sighs; it's a heavy sound, one that carries the weight of the world. "The remains will be transported to Dr. Bishop's lab. Agent Farnsworth, you will assist Dr. Bishop. Dunham, question the witnesses before you return to the lab. Bishop…" The normally organized man seems at a lost.

"You're with Dunham." He decides finally before walking away again.

Peter can barely conceal his pleased grin.

* * *

><p>"She told us her name was Luna, but none of us believed her."<p>

"Why not?" Olivia asks Clarissa Hubble, who is apparently the leader and spokesperson of this… coven, as they refer to it.

"Sienna here," She points out a blonde, "picked up on some uncertainty when she introduced herself. That's her gift," The bright-eyed lady explains eagerly, her former distress having seemingly evaporated.

"Alright," Olivia is being quick and straight to the point; what freaks her out isn't these women with their dreamy looks and extra abilities, but the fact that she is inclined to put some faith in their words – after all, she's the one who can cross universes with the mere power of her mind, and set fires with that very same mind; she doesn't even want to think about the unexplained bouts of telekinesis.

Peter Bishop's easy smirk does nothing to help put the women at ease as she methodically works her way through all nine of them. They shoot him looks of distrust and confusion, and one actually scowls at him as he moves closer to Olivia.

"What's her deal?" He interrupts the interview, tilting his head to indicate the scowling woman.

"That's Sienna," Clarissa repeats, missing the dark look Olivia shoots Peter for his disruption. "She senses emotions."

"So she's an empath." Peter states.

"We don't label ourselves." Clarissa says a little too quickly, a hint of over-protectiveness in her words. Peter goes on with his questions.

"Okay, so why is she looking at me like that?"

Olivia shoots Peter another look, this one of mildly-concealed irritation. He smirks slightly as Clarissa motions for this Sienna lady to join them.

"Sienna," She starts serenely. "This is Agent Dunham and…"

"Peter Bishop." He fills in helpfully, leaving out his official title.

"Right, Peter Bishop, who was wondering about your gift."

Peter wouldn't quite have put it that way, and he's about to say so when Sienna starts speaking.

"You're lost," She says simply. "You belong, but you don't. You have a hundred emotions flitting through your mind. It gives me a headache."

"Ah," Peter nods knowingly even though he's lost. His sense of disbelief is apparently well and alive, despite its mysterious absence these past three years.

"You don't understand. No one does." Sienna sighs quietly before gravitating back to the other women.

"Wait," Olivia calls out, sounding urgent but tentative. "You… You felt things, when Luna showed up. Can you tell me? Please?"

Sienna looks undecided, her eyes flitting between Olivia and Clarissa, finally settling on Olivia. "You believe." She says simply. Olivia tenses, uncomfortable to have been put on the spot like that, her beliefs brought into light.

"It's alright," Sienna reassures her. "It doesn't matter."

"So you'll help us?"

"Suzanna was my sister." She sighs sadly, her eyes blank as she looks over Olivia's shoulder, at the slightly charred portion of the clearing. "I'll help you."

* * *

><p>"Walter!" Olivia snaps over the insanely loud music the mad scientist is playing. A pre-occupied Astrid flips off the music in a well-practiced move, leaving Walter puzzled until he looks up.<p>

"Agent Dunham!" He says in that delighted way only he can, as if her appearance has made his day. "What a surprise."

"We've got three bodies, Walter." Olivia gently reminds him. "I think that's a pretty good clue that says I'll drop by."

"Ah, but nothing is certain, dear. And it is always nice to see you." Looking over Olivia's shoulder, he finds Peter hovering, uncertain of what Walter's mood is like today.

"Peter!" He smiles, beckoning the young man over. Walter knows that on some basic, biological level, this Peter is just as much his son as his Peter was, and if it's his one chance at being a real father, Walter will take it. Besides, he takes comfort in the fact that Peter knows of the lucky silver coin, and their shared love for bacon is common ground.

Not bacon pudding, though. Walter remains the sole fan of this product despite his best efforts to slowly acclimate the young people to it. Lesson learned: Olivia does not enjoy having bacon pudding diluted into her coffee.

"I was just about to start on the bodies. Dear Asterisk had to leave; these are the only cases she can't handle. But now we have you!" Walter rejoices, eagerly pulling out his tools. "You'll help me, won't you, Peter? Olivia, you are free to watch if you'd like." He offers generously. Olivia draws on her self-control and refrains from blanching.

"I think I'll pass," She says lightly, leaving the men to the autopsy. "I'll be in my office; tons of witness statements to go through." She holds up a manila file as evidence.

"Alright," Walter says, a bit more subdued. "Don't forget to come out for dinner! I had Astro run out and get us a few things since the stove was on anyway."

"Mm-hmm," Olivia hums, not in the least disgusted.

It's reassuring for Peter to see that some things never change.

* * *

><p>She never meant for this to happen; never never never. All she wanted was to see him again, just one last time. One last hour with him and then she would have brought them home safely.<p>

But they wandered off on their own, and it had taken everything in her very being to come back without the collective state of mind they shared.

She's weak, so very weak.

Maybe she'll be with him after all.

* * *

><p>"So they definitely crossed over." Olivia surmises over take-out; Walter had mixed up the spoons, again, causing Astrid to promptly throw out everything and call for Chinese.<p>

"Yes, yes." Walter agrees between mouthfuls of food. "It seems that the soft spot was nudged, somehow, allowing these young women and a fourth, I believe, to cross over, if only momentarily. And as you saw, upon their return, the fourth woman must have been absent since they were pushed-" He utters the word 'pushed' with a blaring, excited tone as he pushes out his hands to demonstrate, "-back here for balance, but in a simple case of how no two things can occupy the same space at once, their poor souls were horribly deformed."

"Are you saying that this woman, the missing one, is the reason why they crossed over?"

"It is entirely possible, Olivia. In fact, it remains the only possibility. This young woman, gifted in her own way, must have ripped a small hole into the fabric of the universe, allowing for a vortex of sorts to consume and pull them into the other universe. Upon their arrival, she must have left and so when the universe cleaned up after itself, wrenching these three women back, it compensated in additional body parts for what was missing – the woman herself."

Once, in a distant lifetime, she might have been disgusted by these details at any given moment, what more over dinner. Now all Olivia can focus on is working herself as hard as she possibly can to get to the bottom of this because universe-hopping isn't something to be taken lightly.

"Okay, so is she still Over There?"

"Possibly. However, I should think that she would find a way to return. All evidence leads me to conclude that this crossing over isn't accidental; this young woman has a task and she wants to achieve it before returning."

"Walter," Astrid speaks up, pushing away a carton of her own. "How did she cross over in the first place? I mean, she did it all on her own and the only other person who can do that is-"

"Olivia. True, but I theorize that extreme emotions and an enlightened mind are both big factors when it comes to this particular ability of crossing between universes, and a combination of both in a soft spot drastically improved this woman's chances of crossing."

This catches Olivia's attention. "So Cortexiphan isn't the only thing that can help?"

"No! Far from it – Cortexiphan was made to stimulate a certain part of the human mind, to keep it open. This is why it only worked so well in children; because children retained control over all parts of their minds when they were young. Similarly, an enlightened mind, one open to various impossibilities, could coax the same ability to cross over safely, and at will." Walter explains energetically, putting down his food.

"Walter, are you telling me that if someone actually figured this out and shared it with the general public, all anyone would have to do to cross over is enlighten themselves?" Olivia is on edge; this can't be good – there must be a reason why not everyone can just cross over; some things aren't meant to be tampered with.

"Yes, put simply, I do believe so." The old man says casually, focusing on his food once again. Olivia's mind reels while Walter happily downs the rest of his food. Two worlds that were never meant to collide, and now they're on a direct crash course, a war with a sadistic version of Walter heading up the other side's first line of defense. A sadistic man who will stop at nothing – memories of her time spent in captivity Over There pull her deep into a dark corner of her mind.

"'Livia, calm down," Peter's soft murmur sounds in her ear as he gently grips her hand, soothing her. "Come back to us, sweetheart."

Astrid's sharp gaze on their hushed interaction is the first thing she notes when she pulls herself out of her mind. Peter lets go of her hand the moment her body tenses, though she knows, somehow, that he's only doing it for her sake and not because he wants to. Something tells her that if he had it his way, there would be a lot of touching between the two of them – not that she doesn't have a similar urge to put her hands on this man.

"I-" Olivia stands up abruptly with a strangled attempt at speech. A deep breath, another, and another, until she can fool herself into believing that she's alright; that the world isn't falling apart; that no one is able to cross over into a strange world that mirrors their own; that Peter Bishop isn't the one who fills up that hole inside her, can't be the one who completes her.

"I think I'm done, so I'm going home for now. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Her second try works much better and she has her coat in her hands before anyone can say anything; before Peter can say anything because she knows he's the one who would try to stop her; to comfort her.

A mumbled 'goodnight' to everyone and she's out; she's out and God, maybe she's just becoming claustrophobic; maybe she was just in the office too long. She tries to reason for her crazy behavior but Olivia knows there's only one reason for it, and it's not claustrophobia or anything else, it's someone who knows her better than she knows herself.

"Olivia!"

A grimace and a wince seem like an odd combination and if Olivia hadn't been so freaked out, she might have been inclined to observe this particular expression of hers. But she is freaked out, because it's not Walter or Astrid or even Nina, who makes the occasional visit, calling out to her; it's Peter and she can't pretend to ignore him because he knows of her heightened senses caused by her frequent crossing-over. Besides, ignoring him might tell him that she isn't at ease with him; that his very presence does things to her, things that she'd rather ignore until she is in the safety of her own home, trapped in solid walls where she can let her guard down and pretend, just for a moment, that Peter is that missing part in her life, back to love her and protect her and make her whole and happy.

Slowly, to buy her some time to rearrange her features, Olivia turns to face the blue-eyed consultant, who's entirely too perfect for his own good.

"Hey," He lightly places one hand on her left arm, a comforting gesture perfected by him and his Olivia, the Olivia she will never be. "Are you okay?" He searches her eyes for clues, and she turns away from his probing gaze because there are things in her eyes no one should be subjected to; nightmares and horrors she's kept to herself for years; terrifying things she suddenly finds herself wanting to share with him, if only because she knows he'll make it all go away.

"Olivia," One hand gently guides her eyes back to his. "Please don't turn away from me." It isn't a sharp order, or a dark demand, but a soft plea that breaks her heart all over again. They say what you don't know won't hurt you but why are these lost memories so painful?

She wants so badly to give in, for once in her life, and simply let the pieces fall where they may. Any more of these blue eyes locked onto hers and she might just fall into him, giving in to whatever it is that hovers between them, an electrical charge almost like the one he had been just a month ago, an all-consuming force that leaves destruction in its wake.

And that's what scares her more than anything.

"'Livia, please. If you want me to leave you alone, I will, but just let me know you're okay."

The intimate nickname he has for her throws her off guard every single time, even after four weeks of hearing him use it. It's something uniquely him; no one's ever called her that. She's been Olivia, Olive, Dunham, Liv, Livvy, but never 'Livia. How can one missing alphabet make her feel so special?

And then she breaks.

"Peter."

In one single name she conveys everything – how lost she is, how empty she is, how painful not remembering is, how badly she wants to love him the way he loves her. Gently he draws her into his arms, moving so slowly she wonders if he thinks this is a dream, a careful maze he has to slowly navigate to avoid a sudden crash into reality.

Everything about this embrace is familiar – the way his arms wrap around her; the way her own hands rest instinctively against his body, as if they've done it a million times before; the way her head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck; the comforting rate of his slow heartbeat against her own, a single rhythm.

And she wants to cry, because she's home; she's finally home and whole.

* * *

><p><strong>I have some reservations, ending it like this, but oh well, go with the flow and where the writing bug takes you!<strong>

**Happy November, everyone, and I hope you had a wonderful Halloween. In case anyone was wondering, the chapter titles aren't in any way connected to the chapters themselves, but refer to the updates. All Hallows' Eve is the 31st of October, All Saints' Day (this chapter) is the 1st of November (today), and a gold star to whoever leaves the correct answer for tomorrow's chapter title. Hint: It's a holiday of sorts commonly observed on the 2nd of November. And yes, tomorrow's chapter will be the last.**

**As always, reviews are love, and with this massive headache, I need lots and lots of love. (A normal bedtime might help, but who needs sleep when you can stay up partying and writing?)**

**Let's not forget e-mail, PMs, tweets and if you have any questions, there's always my homepage, where I take questions.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**November 2011.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Samhain Scare**

**Three : All Souls' Day**

* * *

><p>It's going to be another long, restless night of tossing and turning; Olivia can tell even as she shuts the front door behind her.<p>

Maybe pushing Peter Bishop away and then running off hadn't been her brightest moment but the sudden onslaught of _feelings, _feelings that had come out of the blue, with no memories attached, had been entirely too much for her and so she had protected herself, by running away.

She hates that Peter Bishop is making her something she is not; hates that he can make her run away from herself when she faces monsters and unspeakable horrors on a daily basis.

What she hates most is that for three seconds - for three impossibly short seconds - Peter Bishop had made her feel whole.

* * *

><p>She's running.<p>

She can't stop, because if she stops running then she'll have to face reality, and she can't do it, not now. So she runs, and runs, and runs.

She runs until the world turns black.

* * *

><p>"They found the woman."<p>

It's dark out; even the sun isn't up yet, but evidently, Broyles is.

"Amelia van der Velde. She collapsed outside of Clarissa Hubble's house and was sent to the Boston Medical Center. I have two agents standing guard but you need to get there and question her."

"Yes, sir." It's an automatic response, one she doesn't have to think of as she jumps out of bed and starts flipping on light switches in a familiar pattern that will allow her to leave home in 15 minutes.

It probably helps that she doesn't have to shake off any remaining bits of sleep, since she's been wide awake the whole night. As Olivia shuts her front door behind her, all she can think of is how good it will be to finally have this case behind her, something she's thought about every single case this past month. As she drives off, she can't help the silent hope that enters her mind.

Maybe after this case, things will start going back to how they were before Peter Bishop showed up.

* * *

><p>"I didn't mean to hurt them."<p>

Amelia van der Velde is falling apart because even though like Olivia, she can cross universes, unlike Olivia, she doesn't have the protection Cortexiphan offers. The tough agent is secretly trembling on the inside; with her blonde hair and light green eyes, Amelia could almost be her; she could almost be Amelia, this weak, frail, desperate woman who had done the unthinkable and will now probably not survive to regret it.

"Please, you have to believe me. I'd been dreaming of him, my Thomas. He wanted me to find him, so badly. I wanted to bring him back."

Olivia has never told anyone but those dreams of Peter Bishop, the ones she'd mentioned to Walter – they are all empty spots in her memory. Dreams she can't remember, details blurred by a familiar smile, words tuned out as blue eyes pierced her own.

"Okay. Amelia? You need to stop and tell me everything from the beginning." She says softly, choosing to stand over the hospital bed instead of sitting down in the uncomfortable chair next to Amelia's frail form.

"Can you do that?" She asks again, gently. She notes with worry how much energy it takes for Amelia to simply nod; surely Walter must know how to fix this. She makes a mental note to ask him later, at an acceptable hour.

Slowly, gathering her strength, Amelia van der Velde paints a beautiful picture of her and her fiancé, Thomas Harrier. How they'd met at college; how he'd supported her when both her parents had been involved in a freak accident. How when everyone else shunned her as she turned to paganism for solace, Thomas was the only one who stood by her and supported her; anything to make her feel better.

And then a callous mistake – an ugly, clumsy brushstroke – destroyed the entire picture; their lives. Just months after his proposal, Thomas had driven out of their small town to Boston, for a client whose case he was supposed to take on. He'd been here for three days and on the day he was supposed to come back, he called her and told her everything was fine and he would be back that very night and he loved her.

And then he died; another freak accident to haunt her for the rest of her life.

Amelia was devastated, naturally. All alone in life, with not even a friend left, she blindly made her way through the next two weeks, and even his funeral couldn't break her out of it. Eventually, when she did snap, she threw herself into her research, embracing her religion with even more fervor than she had after her parents' deaths.

The dreams started after that; Thomas calling to her every single night, pleading her to find him. And she found that if she wanted something bad enough, she could have it; could feel him again. The academic in her theorized that it was her mind, uniquely open, that allowed her this miracle, and she thought that if she could find more like her, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to bring Thomas back.

So she came to Boston, a place she had never been and had avoided entirely because of the painful memories, to seek out a coven and convince them she was someone she wasn't. Desperation was mistaken for true belief and she was in. It only took her four days to assemble the women and lead them to a clearing near the deserted road where Thomas had been hit. Four days and then it was _the _day; the one day in the year when the veil between worlds was thinnest.

Together with three young girls, the ones she'd found to be the most gifted and open, Amelia van der Velde closed her eyes and wished, with all her might, to cross through into the world of the dead.

She opened her eyes to find herself in a different universe entirely.

* * *

><p>"Olivia!"<p>

She doesn't want to turn back and face him; she really, really doesn't. But it's time for work now and he could help – in fact, he's probably here to help. And she'll be detached and he'll be nice enough to _not _bring it up and then she will go back to avoiding him, later, when this is done and Amelia, the girl who so resembles her in more ways than one, is safe. She can avoid him later, and this is why she faces him now.

"Peter," She smiles tightly, a poor attempt at normalcy. "Good morning."

He's bewildered by her mild manner, and she knows it, but she doesn't acknowledge that anything's changed and so he recovers and follows her lead, charming and nice guy that he is.

"'Morning," He nods, smiling; his smile reaches his eyes, she notes, a small, irrational part of her disappointed by how easily he let her off the hook. But she _wants _him to ignore last night, doesn't she?

She does.

Or maybe she doesn't.

"So, what's the story?" He inquires casually as she leads him to Amelia's room.

"Walter was pretty much right. She confessed to wanting to cross over, just not to another universe."

"Where else is there to cross over to?" He asks, an even mix of curiosity and smart-ass.

"The land of the dead." She replies evenly, pushing open the door to Amelia's room before he can formulate a reply. It takes him all of five seconds to wrap his mind around the idea and move on, and then he sees Olive in a hospital bed.

_Olivia _stands right next to him – a safe distance away, of course – but _Olive_, young, scared_ Olive_, is curled up in a hospital bed, looking sick and dangerously close to death. She moves to look at him and then he realizes.

It's not Olive or young Olivia at all, but Amelia van der Velde, just slightly more scarred and haunted than she'd been in the picture Broyles had provided the team with. But the resemblance is uncanny, and Peter knows it is only Amelia's eyes – free, light, unburdened even at a time like this – that would lead a stranger to be able to tell these two apart.

Peter would know, though. Peter will always know; there will be no more betraying Olivia, not even unwittingly.

Not anymore.

* * *

><p>"Walter, please tell me you can save this woman." Olivia implores; it isn't fair – Amelia never asked for any of this, and they see enough death on the job. Amelia might be one of the few they can save, and Olivia wants to give it a shot.<p>

"I'm not sure, Olivia," Walter admits slowly, reluctantly. "I could try, of course, but you yourself saw what crossing over did to Belly. Some things are not mine to decide." The old scientist sounds upset, and Olivia knows, instinctively, that this was once a topic of debate.

"William Bell crossed over too many times, Walter. You and I know he probably went back and forth more than a dozen times; probably two. Amelia van der Velde has only ever crossed once, and she did it with her mind, not with harmonic rods or drugs or anything else William Bell or Walternate used." She's reluctant to bring up the other Walter Bishop, but he makes a fine example.

"I… I could try, I suppose. Yes, yes, I could try." He is off in a world of his own, and Olivia knows to leave him alone. "Astringent! Help me clean up this mess! We're having a visitor!" Walter calls gleefully, hollering for his assistant. Olivia slowly backs off, thinking that maybe she'll grab some lunch for everyone, almost crashing into Peter as she turns around to leave.

"Penny for your thoughts," He remarks with an easy smile, his arms automatically reaching out to steady her. Olivia's mind is embarrassingly blank as he comes into contact with her, their close proximity an apparent threat to her mind.

"You wouldn't want to know," She whispers darkly before leaving.

She has a feeling he already knows her deepest, darkest thoughts.

* * *

><p>Three days pass – three days of Walter's crazy experiments on a horrified Amelia; three days of Astrid's exasperated screams as even she loses her temper; three days of Olivia missing out on all the entertainment because she's avoiding him, and he knows it.<p>

Peter misses her; misses the way this new her is still unnerved by his very presence, something his Olivia had learned to accept and even welcome; misses the way her eyes widen and her cheeks flush when he makes an inappropriate comment.

He misses the way her eyes sometimes lock onto his and tell him, _I want to love you, so much_.

* * *

><p>Three days pass – three days of constant paperwork, making up excuses for Walter's crazy purchases; three days of calling Astrid for updates and feeling sorry for the stressed Junior Agent; three days of avoiding Peter and missing him and wanting him.<p>

She can't believe herself; the way her body and heart betray her and how badly she wants to be with Peter, if only because she misses the way he teases her and the way he looks at her and how, sometimes, she can lose herself and for a split second, just look at him and think, _he loves me_.

It's been three nights of frustrated tears because Olivia wants to remember so, _so_ badly.

* * *

><p>On the fourth morning, she knows she can't avoid him anymore; doesn't have it in her to keep fighting, not when her waking moments are spent desperately coaxing her brain into remembering and the little sleep she has is marred by the fact that it only serves to highlight how very alone she is.<p>

So she puts on her big girl pants, downs three cups of coffee (because she can't keep her eyes open without caffeine) and drives to the lab instead of the cold federal building she's been hiding out in for the last three days.

He's there; of course he is. She finds herself hovering uncertainly in front of the door, last-minute doubts filling her being.

But then Peter opens the door for her, as if he'd known she was there all along.

"'Livia, thank God," He breathes, and she can see he's fighting the urge to hold her and comfort himself; to know, firsthand, that she is just fine. "You wouldn't pick up your phone, Olivia, and suddenly Lincoln Lee starts showing up, like some courier boy shuffling paperwork and Walter's findings between here and your office. He wouldn't even tell me if you were alright or if anything had happened."

She frowns; she'd never meant to worry him, and of course Lincoln was being a kid, withholding information because he just doesn't like Peter. His occasional lingering looks aren't as subtle as he thinks; the new agent is almost like a puppy these days, an eager follower willing to take any time she can spare him – it's suffocating, and getting to be a real pain.

"Peter," She says softly, cutting him off from his ongoing rant. "I'm sorry," Gently, hesitantly, she places a hand on his arm, instantly silencing him. "I just needed some time." She offers up an excuse; a peace offering of sorts in its own.

"And now?" His voice has taken on a softer tone; worry replaced with hope and longing.

She doesn't know what's going to happen next; doesn't know if they'll ever work out their stories, but she knows she's here for a reason, and so, at the risk of killing off his hope, she removes her arm and tilts her head in the general direction of her makeshift office.

"Can we talk?"

She notes the way his eyes dim for just a moment, and the way he puts on a mask and an easy smile immediately for her.

"Sure."

* * *

><p>She isn't proud to admit it but she wimps out – Olivia Dunham is a coward.<p>

"Olivia!" Walter greets brightly with a wave. She could smile, nod, maybe say something back and then go off with Peter, but a split second of nerves is all she needs to send her in a different direction and have her make her way to Walter as a lost Peter trails behind her, his questioning gaze burning into her back.

"Hi, Walter," She smiles, genuinely happy to see the man after three days; it's getting easier to admit that this is her family right here, Walter and Astrid and maybe, Peter. "How's it going?"

"It's wonderful, dear. Miss van der Velde is somehow helping her own recovery. I theorize it is her state of mind that calms down her body."

"Walter here tried to convince her to take some drugs to speed up the recovery." Apparently Peter's decided that the sooner they get done here, the sooner they get to talk and so he's pitching in with the conversation.

"I merely suggested that some LSD in the form of sugar cubes might help the young woman achieve a relaxed state in which her body would shut down and rejuvenate at a better rate." Walter defends himself, lost in a world of test tubes and brightly glowing beakers.

"It's okay, Walter." Olivia reassures him, fighting the urge to turn around and face Peter. "I assume Amelia declined?" His voice is closer than it was and she almost jumps as he speaks up from just behind her; she can feel his breath against her hair, his arm lightly grazing her own.

"You assume correctly." He says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. She doesn't trust herself to speak; doesn't trust her voice. Nodding mutely, she heads for her office, knowing that Peter will, no doubt, follow her.

He does, and as the door closes behind them, she pretends Walter's delighted call for Astrid to come see 'Agent Dunham and Peter' is merely part of her imagination. It's almost awkward, this silence they share, but Peter seems oblivious.

"Trust Walter to play matchmaker, no matter which timeline it is." He laughs, sitting down. She leans against her desk, hands braced against the surface.

"Was he always like that?" She's greedy for details; details to fill in these little holes Peter's non-existence has apparently left in the timeline.

"Always," Peter smiles, and she lets her guard down, merely resting against the table, arms hanging loosely against her sides. "We had a… fight once," She doesn't miss his slight hesitation as he offers her more details. "After you stopped talking to me for a long while, he invited you over to breakfast, saying it was something important. You came, I was clueless and the next thing we knew, he was gone, there was music on and candles lit."

It's not hard to picture – but then again, nothing's hard to picture when it comes to Walter. Still, it puts her at ease, this memory that seems possible; even something that might have happened, and was just forgotten.

"What happened then?" She's curious about this fight, but their talk is going to be hard enough without past arguments thrown in; for once, she just wants it to be easy, no hard past dragged in. Besides, she's pretty sure this is the part of their story where she came back from the other universe to find that he'd spent the last few months with her alternate. It's the only possible reason why she would do something as childish as ignore him and not even talk to him.

"You were going to leave; I stopped you. And I thought you were going to talk to me this time, but then we got a case." So she backed down even then.

"It was the Merchant case, the one where-"

"-Alice Merchant wouldn't let go of her dead husband, and her husband's alternate wouldn't let go of her." Olivia cuts in, wanting to know just how different the case had gone in his timeline; the one with his Olivia.

But are they not one and the same – she and his Olivia? Why else would this be happening; why else would she be feeling this way?

And if they really aren't the same – no. They have to be the same, because Peter can't leave her for another Olivia. He just can't, because she might not survive that.

"Yeah," Peter nods slowly, waiting to see where Olivia is going with this.

"Before they brought in the Amber, I thought I'd give it one last shot. I told Alice that she had to let go, because she'd already had so much while some of us would have to live the rest of our lives with nothing, and nobody. And then her husband brought up their daughters and… that was that." Olivia leaves out the part where she'd mentioned her one weakness to the woman - how she had spent the rest of her life with a missing piece, one she'd never find.

"I told Alice that she'd already had what most of us could only dream of, a lifetime with someone she loved. And _then _her husband brought up her daughters."

"So it worked out, in the end?"

"It worked out. Everything did; that night, when Walter was still in New York because he decided to stay over, you came. And you told me that you wanted what I wanted – which was our own lifetime."

"And?" Olivia wants to remember, so badly; or at the very least, feel the same sense of conviction she must've felt when she'd decided to go to Peter, if only so that she can do the same now.

"And we were together, Olivia. And it was beautiful, you and me, waking up together at your favorite time of day." He is so sincere, so hopeful.

"Sunrise, when the world is full of promise." She voices out a sentiment she's kept to herself her whole life; something she's never told anyone – never trusted anyone enough to tell them.

But she trusted Peter, enough to let him in and tell him everything and let him love her.

"Olivia." He steps closer, until personal space is a forgotten courtesy not extended to her; until it becomes hard to see anything other than him; hard to imagine a life where she would see anything other than him. "Please, 'Livia, you have to remember. You can't forget us."

_You can't forget us._

_You can't forget this._

"Peter, I can't." In a rush of strangled and choked up words, she pushes him away – yet again – and runs; runs from the lab; runs from him; runs from the ghost of herself.

Olivia fears her tears might never stop.

* * *

><p>It takes Walter only one more day to pronounce Amelia perfectly healthy, and she is back in her hotel room that very night, her last night in Boston before she leaves to face her own ghosts and go on with her life.<p>

As Olivia drives to the hotel address Amelia had left her in case of emergencies, she is at war with herself because this makes no sense at all; what she's about to do is desperate and pathetic and potentially stupid. It's not even going to work and so she's going to break her own heart all over again.

But she has to try.

* * *

><p>Two quick knocks at her door alert Amelia van der Velde to a visitor outside her door.<p>

Waves of grief and desperation hit her before she can even move to open it and she knows immediately that it is the young agent, Olivia Dunham – the only person who can carry around that much pain and live with herself. Amelia thinks maybe she knows what Olivia is coming for, but she is unable to reconcile it with the agent's tough character.

Love has made others do crazier things, though.

She opens the door slowly, revealing a red-eyed Olivia Dunham, disheveled and desperate. She knows for certain what Olivia is going to ask of her before she can even pull herself together to make one last desperate plea.

Olivia Dunham is a swirling mess of grief, pain, desperation and lost love; single-minded to a point of reckless abandon, all she wants is a second chance – one that Amelia wants so badly to give to her. As she gathers her strength, she visibly grows smaller, as if she is folding into herself; a form of protection against the world; the cruel world that batters and bruises even now, as Olivia becomes a small child against the forces of nature and fate.

The wind cries outside but it is nothing when compared to the heart-broken Olivia; the night is darker than ever and Olivia stands out against the bleak surroundings, one last pawn in the game, refusing to be dominated.

"Please," She cries.

"Please help me remember."

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>And yes, that's the end.<strong>

**Ouch! Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to throw eggs at a person?**

**But seriously, everyone. This is how it was going to end all along; in fact, I came up with the last scene and slowly worked my way backwards until I came up with this three-part fic. I really hope I was able to capture that kind of painful desperation Olivia would have to be in to reach out for help in the form of magic, but maybe I failed. I do so hope I didn't, though, because for me that's what the entire story hinges on, this one last scene.**

**No plans for any sort of follow-up piece to this but we'll see; never know what my mind might come up with next. Thank you all for your wonderful support and it has been, as always, a complete joy to write for the fandom.**

**Oh, and gold stars to those of you who got the title right!**

**Why not share your thoughts with me one last time?**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**November 2011.**_


End file.
